


open up the promise of the day, drive the dark things away

by fangirl_squee, madelinestarr



Category: The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Cross-Generational Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:23:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4887046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinestarr/pseuds/madelinestarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During her time on Mars, Pemily stays at Sparks’ house (set post-Can a Leopard Upgrade Its Spots?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> co-written with @madelinestarr on twitter, who is wonderful and amazing and the light of my life basically.
> 
> special thanks to sophie (hc-svnt-dracones on tumblr), as always, for betaing.

When they get back to the station it was pretty late in the day, and even later still once everything had been filed away. Sparks showed Pemily how to fill out her very first report (she was a natural), while Croach made coffee for onus reasons. If Sparks didn’t know any better, he’d say Croach was sulking, but any attempt to get Croach to fill out paperwork too just seemed to make things worse. Whatever.

Sparks was packing his stuff away, mentally running through his to-do list for tomorrow, checking that no last-minute space-e-mail had come through, his usual end-of-the-day routine, when he noticed Pemily fidgeting by the door. She’d already packed all her stuff away into her knapsack.

“Where are you stayin’ tonight, Deputy?”

Pemily fiddled with the strap of her bag. “Undecided, Marshal. Thought I’d head over to the Widow Johnson’s boardin’ house, or else camp out under the stars, maybe. Hadn’t really thought about it.”

Sparks glanced out the window. The bright lights inside the marshal’s station made the twilight-darkness seem a lot darker than it was.

“She’s probably closed up for the night,” said Sparks, “and since you ain’t got a tent, I think camping would be a mighty uncomfortable way to spend your first night on Mars. I got a couch you can sleep on, if you want.”

“Thanks, Marshal,” said Pemily, “it’s kind of you to put out the welcome wagon on short notice like this.”

“The first week on an unfamiliar planet is always the hardest,” said Sparks, “you’ll be no good on the job if you don’t get a good rest.”

Pemily nodded.

“Right,” said Sparks. He looked over his shoulder, adding, “Goodnight, Marshal’s Station.”

“Goodnight Marshal Nevada and Deputy Stallwark,” said the AI.

Pemily smiled. “I gotta say Marshal, I am really startin’ to like the sound of ‘Deputy Stallwark’!”

Sparks smiled. “Yeah, it’s got quite a ring to it.”

He untied Mercury from the marshal station’s hitching post.

“We’re gonna have to take a round about way home,” said Sparks, “I have to pick up some supplies.”

“Fine by me, Marshal.”

The two headed into town, towards one of  the few non-bar places in town still open: the general store. The bell tinkled as they entered.

“Howdy, Marshal!” said the woman at the counter, “And who’s this?”

“‘Evening Mrs Casey. This is my new Deputy, Pemily Stallwark,” said Sparks, “We’re just here to pick up a couple’a breakfast things before we head on home.”

Pemily followed Sparks to the fridge that ran along one wall of the small store for milk, and then back to the counter. There was a box next to the counter with one solitary loaf of bread, which Sparks put on the counter next to the milk.

Mrs Casey raised her eyebrows at the items. “Changin’ up your routine Marshal?”

Sparks busied himself with getting out his credits. “Thought Deputy Stallwark might like some different options, since it’s her first week and all.”

“Marshal, you didn’t have to go to any trouble over me,” said Pemily.

Sparks waved his hand. “It’s not trouble, it’s just food.”

They were both quiet on the ride back to Sparks’ home, just a little ways out of town. Sparks smiled tiredly as the little house came into view.

“There we are, there’s Jean.”

“Jean?” asked Pemily.

“The house’s AI. Previous owner seemed to think that when I took over the lease for the place I should give the AI a name so I picked one out of a book.” Sparks paused. “The AI seems to like it, though they ain’t much of a talker. The speakers are all in workin’ order but Jean’d rather use morse code and the like, so don’t worry if you hear a tapping noise or if the lights start flickin’ when you’re in the room. That’s just Jean’s way.”

The porch light did flicker as they came up the steps, quick flashes that made Pemily’s eyes hurt a little. Sparks seemed unconcerned, absentmindedly patting the banister while he balanced the bag from the general store with his other hand.

“Evenin’ Jean, I know I’m late. This here’s my new Deputy, Pemily Stallwark, she’s goin’ to be stayin’ with us for a little while.”

The porch light flickered in response, less urgently this time, and the front door slid open.

“Thanks, Jean,” said Sparks. 

The door opened onto a small lounge room, or what Pemily assumed would be one under normal circumstances. As it was, there wasn’t much in the way of homey touches or even in the way of furniture, just a worn-looking orange couch, a tall lamp, and a single bookshelf which was absolutely packed with books.

“Hope the couch looks okay to you,” said Sparks, “it can fold out, so …”

“It’s fine!” said Pemily.

The lights flickered, and Sparks made a face.

“She just said it’s fine, and I know there’s nothin’ wrong with your hearin’,” said Sparks.

“What?”

“Jean’s always on at me to get a new couch, even though that one is _perfectly fine_ ,” said Sparks.

The lights flickered again, and Sparks made an annoyed noise. Pemily stifled a laugh.

Sparks headed through another door, which led to a small corridor.

“Down that way’s my room and the bathroom-” said Sparks. As he pointed out each room, the lights went on in each, before turning off again. “-And through here’s the kitchen.”

The kitchen was just as bare as the other room, just a worn looking wooden table and two chairs, with a small bench next to a stove. Along the opposite wall were a few small cupboard doors and the fridge, which Sparks opened and put the general store bag in.

“We’ve got a pretty early start tomorrow, Deputy,” said Sparks, “I’m goin’ to turn in early.”

Pemily fidgeted with her bag strap. “Is that an order Marshal? Only, I’m not feelin’ too tired just yet.”

“Not an order, just a suggestion,” said Sparks, “I’ll get out some blankets for when you need them.”

Pemily looked over the bookshelf while Sparks went to get the blankets. Most of them were non fiction - space regulations, translation guides, interspecies relation guides - with a few copies of old earth fiction stories scattered in between.

“Here you go,” said Sparks, “my room’s just down the hall if you need me. I usually try and get to the station just past dawn, so try and get some decent sleep before then.”

Pemily nodded.

Sparks shifted awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. “Allright. Night, Deputy.” 

“Night, Marshal,” said Pemily.

Sparks sighed once his door was closed. He sat down heavily on the bed. The lights flickered.

“Mmm, no, I’m fine. Long day, is all.”

He pulled off his boots, hanging his gunbelt within reach of the bed.

“Jean, wake me up if my deputy wakes up. I don’t want the first case I have to be on tomorrow to be the case of a runaway.”

The lights flickered in response.

“Appreciate it. Goodnight, Jean.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sparks was jolted out of sleep hours later to Jean flashing his bedroom light on and off in a frantic way. It took him a moment to figure out what Jean was trying to say.

_Nightmare. Pemily._

Well, thought Sparks, it wasn’t a runaway Deputy situation, but he could handle this.

He rushed to the lounge where Pemily lashed out at an invisible enemy, legs kicking fast and hard. He caught her by the shoulder, dodging her blows.

“Deputy! Deputy! _Pemily_! Wake up!”

Pemily’s eyes opened, and she blinked up at him in confusion. “Marshal? What are you …” she seemed to take in her surroundings, frowning. “Oh. I was - I must have been havin’ a bad dream.”

Sparks gently pried Pemily’s hand where her grip was tangled in his sleeve.

“Sorry for the disturbance, Marshal,” said Pemily. Her voice had a raspy quality to it, either from sleep or from her screaming earlier. “I guess I don’t have my dreams as under control as I thought I did.”

“You get ‘em often?”

Pemily nodded, looking down and smoothing out the covers, avoiding his eyes.

Sparks thought for a moment. People always said he wasn’t the best for talking out his feelings and he was inclined to agree with them but there wasn’t exactly anyone else he could bring in to do this.

He cleared his throat. “Are you the kinda person who feels better for talkin’  about the bad dreams, or would you rather not?”

“I don’t want to talk about them,” said Pemily, after a moment.

Sparks tried to suppress a breath of relief. “I’m the same way. How d’you feel about hot coco?”

Pemily looked up at that. “Hot coco?”

“It’s what my grandma used to make me if I had a bad dream. Coco’s better than talkin’ anyway, so.”

Pemily followed him to the kitchen, the house’s AI turning on the light as they entered.

“Thanks, Jean.” said Sparks, absent-mindedly, as he got out the milk and headed towards the stove.

Pemily hovered in the doorway, hands tucked in the crooks of her arms.

“Deputy, could you get the big tin out of the cupboard?” said Sparks, waving a hand in the direction of the space cupboards where they were set into the wall. 

Sparks heard Pemily open one of the doors, and then another. “It’s empty, marshal.”

Sparks looked over. “Oh, not that one, Jean could you -” the AI opened another one of the cupboard doors. “Thanks. The coco stuff’s behind the coffee tin, you can’t miss it.”

Pemily lined up the small tin of coco powder and the small jar of sugar on the counter next to Sparks.

“You sure have a lot of cupboard space, Marshal Nevada.”

Sparks shrugged. “I used to move around a lot as a kid, didn’t have much, and I’ve never needed much more’n that.”

“Marshal, you’ve been here almost ten years!”

Sparks didn’t respond, focusing on mixing in the coco powder and sugar.

Pemily leaned on the counter, watching the stirring motion in silence.

“D’you still see your grandma much?”

Sparks’ stirring paused slightly, and then resumed its smooth figure-eight motion. “No, she … died.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, it was back a ways, before I’d joined Marshal academy.”

“Still,” said Pemily, “didn’t mean to bring up sore memories. The two of you must’ve been mighty close if she used to make you coco.”

Sparks smiled. “I reckon we were. I used to stay with her whenever we were stationed back on Earth. She taught me a lot of things: right from wrong, how to play guitar, the cure from nightmares, morse code, how to say things you don’t want to say.”

Pemily had never seen Sparks so honest - quiet, but so sure. The cowboy bravado Sparks wore every day was gone, but Pemily thought she liked this version of the Marshal even more.

Sparks’ smiled faded a little at the edges. “She really knew her stuff.”

Pemily fiddled with the lid of the coco tin. It looked very well used, like it had originally been painted a bright blue, but most of the paint had worn off with age, especially around the lid.

“Marshal,” said Pemily, “d’you still get nightmares?”

“Sometimes.”

“About marshalin’?”

“Sometimes that, sometimes the war. Not so much anymore, though.” He glanced at her. “Things like that leave you alone after a while, for the most part.”

Sparks took the spoon out, resting it on the handle so that the pot caught the drips, and turned the stove off, reaching above the sink to get out two mugs.

“C’mon deputy,” said Sparks, “We’ll take this out to the porch. I’ll take the mugs, you get the blanket from the couch. Shouldn’t be too cold out, but it’s good to have.”

Sparks led her out to the spaceporch, to the bench swing that faced out onto the red plains. In the distance, Pemily could just make out the shapes of farmsteads, but there were no lights to be seen apart from the stars in the night sky.

“It’s so quiet here,” said Pemily, sitting down next to Sparks and accepting her mug, “compared to the moon I mean.”

“Quiet can be good, sometimes.”

Pemily shifted, rocking the bench back and forth slightly. It was a gentle motion, soothing.

“You don’t seem like the sort that gets to enjoy having a bench like this as part of your house, Marshal,” said Pemily.

Sparks took a sip of coco before he answered. “My grandma had one at her place. After she retired she said it was good to be reminded that you’re moving even if you’re standing still.”

“Retired?”

“USSA, tech services division. Whole family’s USSA in some capacity.”

“Everyone?”

Sparks was looking out at the plains and away from Pemily. It wasn’t as though he was avoiding her gaze, exactly, more like he was searching for the right words out in the darkness.

“Everyone except me, I guess. Turns out I’m not suited to it.”

Pemily bumped their shoulders together. “Me either, Marshal.”

Sparks gave her a quick smile, and then looked back out, up this time, towards the stars.

“See that tiny speck of light?” He pointed to a faint white-blue point of light. “that’s … Earth. And the moon too, I guess.”

“D’you ever miss it? Being’ so far away from your home?”

“It’s where I’m … from,” said Sparks, “can’t help but miss it sometimes. You missin’ the moon?”

“Sometimes. It’s been a -” Pemily took a breath, considering, “- it’s been a nice change being away from it.”

“Still thinkin’ about your bad dream?”

Pemily nodded, rolling the half-empty mug between her palms.

“How about I tell you a story,” said Sparks, “to push that bad dream story out of your head?”

Pemily thought for a moment. “One with no fighting.”

“A story with no fighting, allright. Well, the best story I got with no fighting is right out of the Marshal handbook, subsection 2B, sub-subsection J5.5 …” 

He’d finished subsection 2B (sign licensing regulations; within town limits) and was about to move on to subsection 2C (sign licensing regulations; outside town limits) when he looked over. Pemily’s head was leaning a little against his shoulder, her breaths deep and even as she slept.

“I guess that’s a good enough of a story for now then, deputy,” said Sparks quietly.

He pulled the blanket more securely around her, before gently pulling out his pocket AI. He could do some paperwork to pass the hours until dawn.


	3. Chapter 3

A few nights into her stay at Marshal’s Nevada’s house, Pemily was woken by a strange beeping noise. The light in the lounge room flickered on and off, matching pace to the frantic beeping.

“Jean?” said Pemily, “is somethin’ wrong?”

The light in the lounge room turned off, and the light in the corridor turned on. The beeping continued, an urgent noise.

Pemily got off of the couch and went into the corridor. Now that she was there, she could hear a noise coming from Sparks’ room. It sounded like yelling. Or crying.

“Marshal Nevada?”

As she moved towards his room the door opened. The room was lit by low lighting, and Sparks was sitting up, clutching at the air, his face twisted in agony. He was whispering something to himself that was too low for Pemily to make out the words, but the tone was pleading, begging.

Pemily hesitated, her hand hovering over Sparks before she tapped him on the shoulder, lightly but persistently.

“Marshal Nevada, wake up, it’s me, it’s Pemily, wake up.”

Sparks stilled, and his eyes opened. “Pemily, what …?”

“Jean woke me up,” said Pemily, “it looked like you were havin’ a pretty bad dream.”

“I … yeah. Yeah, you could say that,” said Sparks.

He turned away to wipe at his eyes, and Pemily looked away, pretending not to notice.

Sparks cleared his throat. “Well. Uh, how about some coco?”

Pemily nodded. Jean already had the stove on when they walked into the kitchen. Pemily perched on the countertop while they made the coco in silence, before heading out to the porch swing.

Outside the circle of the porch light, the night seemed endlessly black. Sparks stared into his mug, pushing the bench swing so that it had the tiniest bit of motion. Pemily bit her lip, trying to think of what to say. It was a while before she found it.

“You don’t want to talk about it.” Pemily stated, careful to keep her voice even.

Sparks nodded slowly, his eyes focused on a spot near the porch steps.

“Well, let me tell you the proper way to submit a permit to land a spacecraft...” Pemily began, “For starters, you need to submit an B103 form, and if the craft has over three sentient passengers you’ll need a C28... “ 

As she spoke, a smile spread across Sparks’ tired face. He nodded along, apparently pleased with how much she remembered. Pemily smiled back. She took a breath to start on the process of getting said permits approved in the event that the Marshal is out of the station when Sparks spoke.

 “Croach died, once.” Sparks said, sharp and quick, like the words were being forced out of him as he breathed out. 

Pemily nodded in what she hoped was an encouraging way, and waited. Patience wasn’t exactly her strong suit, but this felt like something she had to wait out. She tried to be still, keeping her breathing as quiet as possible.

Sparks rubbed a hand over his face before he continued. “I, I shot Croach. The one person I was able to keep with me for more than a few years, and I shot him. Over a lady I thought that I … that I liked. And then he fell, and he wasn’t healing like he always, always does ... and I just held him in these arms,” Sparks spread his arms wide, staring at his hands like he can still see the blue blood from his best friend, “and... and he said my name, and then he was just … _gone_. And then we buried him, me and Red. And I dreamed about him. I dreamed about him for months. Awful dreams where he’d kill me straight away, and even worse dreams where we’d just talk for a while before he’d - before that would happen.”

He finally looked at her, and Pemily could see the Earth blue in his eyes. “I thought the dreams’d stop once he came back, but I still get ‘em just as bad.” Sparks paused. “It’s a good thing we don’t ride the trails as much together anymore - I don’t ever want him to know. It’s the one thing I’m afraid of in this world: losing him.”

Pemily reached out and held one of his hands, squeezing it. Sparks blinked, looking like he’d come back to himself, and ruffled Pemily’s hair.

“Well, besides you, kiddo.” He cleared his throat. “Now tell me about proper procedure for crowd control when facing an unidentified science animal.”

Pemily laid out the steps to take from assessing the danger of the science animal (using the Standard Fatality Units approved by the Mars-Earth Coalition) to the eventual capture of said animal, trailing off as she realised that Sparks had fallen asleep, his empty mug held loosely in his hands.

She gently took his mug out of his grip and put both of their mugs down beside her feet, careful not to swing the bench too much, and settled back to watch the sunrise. Slowly, the horizon glowed pink, then red, making the rest of the sky turn from an inky black to a deep purple.

“Beautiful, ‘ain’t it Jean?” said Pemily softly.

The porch light dimmed in response.

“Strange to think that same sun that rises every mornin’ on the moon and,” Pemily glanced at the still-sleeping Sparks, “...Earth can be here too. Maybe we’re not so far from home as we think.”

Slowly, the sun rose over the crest of the red plains, lighting up the faces of a smiling Deputy and her peacefully sleeping Marshal.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to the both of us: madelinestarr and mariusperkins on twitter/tumblr


End file.
